"Not a soul. So you'd better hurry up, I'm a very busy woman," she warns, a sigh to her voice that says his death will just be a small annoyance to her day. "Tell me your name." Her voice low and threatening in his ear, almost lost to the siren that's wailing several blocks away. The chorus of New York is not so far away, but right here in this alley, it's just the two of them.